There comes a point in everyone’s life where they reach a particular age, which is the point where they become aware that everyone is dealt a different hand in life. They have to decide if they are going to follow their pre-ordained path or fight against the system to forge their way forward, making sure to break what is usually a vicious cycle and emerge as their person, rather than just following what has seemingly been laid out for them. It’s a daunting process, and one that often seems impossible, particularly for those who occupy the lower tiers of the proverbial socio-cultural hierarchy, since these are usually the ones with the most to love and the most difficult means to overcome adversity, especially when it comes to rising out of a brutal and outdated social system designed to keep them complacent and invisible. Andrea Arnold has always been fascinated by this concept, as it persists throughout most of her career, defining many of her films and informing their narratives, creating poignant and beautiful depictions of humanity handcrafted by a director who always takes a lot of care with her work. Her most recent outing is Bird, in which she tells the story of Bailey, a 12-year-old girl from a broken home, with her father being a volatile drug dealer and her mother being virtually non-existent in her life, choosing instead to prioritize Bailey’s younger siblings as the beneficiaries of whatever paltry resources she and her long string of boyfriends can provide. Bailey is extremely lonely, but her salvation arrives in the form of Bird, a mysterious drifter whose eccentric personality and cheerful disposition present quite a stark contrast to the brooding young girl, who finds an unexpectedly kindred spirit in her new companion, who accompanies her on a few efforts to protect her family and improve their life in small but substantial ways. A peculiar film that blurs reality and fiction in a truly curious manner,  Bird is extremely effective, particularly in how it navigates tricky themes that would be otherwise overwrought with any other director at the helm but prove to be extremely moving with Arnold guiding the story and examining these peculiar, offbeat ideas that are both motivational and deeply captivating in both concept and execution.

There are several themes that we tend to find manifesting in certain kinds of films more than others, and the coming-of-age narrative is essentially a dime a dozen, forged by generations of storytellers who find value in tales of young people navigating hostile social and cultural conditions as part of their journey of self-discovery and emotional growth. Bird is certainly a film that follows very familiar patterns, and much like Fish Tank and American Honey, centres on a young protagonist coming from impoverished circumstances, following their journey (both physical and psychological) as they set forward to make a better life for themselves. From this perspective, Bird is more reliable than it is inventive (although there are a few innovative elements that come into play, which we’ll discuss momentarily), and it trades originality for consistency, which is a respectable decision and a technique that gives it some gravitas while still allowing Arnold a wide enough berth to explore a few deeper themes. Her depiction of Bailey’s upbringing in a squalid neighbourhood of a working-class town is harrowing – it takes a lot of effort to make something so realistic that it borders on deeply depressing (if not infuriating in some moments – the conditions in which these characters live is unquestionably upsetting) – and sets the stage for what it about to become a very moving exploration of a young girl’s voyage into adolescence, which she knows is going to be an even more brutal, unsettling journey. We cannot even look at this film as an examination of the protagonist’s loss of innocence – every character in this film is a young person who had their childhood stolen away from them, either through their actions or as a result of simply being born into a society that could not handle their existence, and we watch as the main character negotiates her identity and comes to terms with her life, as well as realizing that it isn’t something that she necessarily has to see defining her future and that it can instead be the impetus she needs to find a better way forward, not only for herself but also her entire family.

As far as the story goes, Bird benefits from having exceptional characterization. Arnold has proven on many occasions to be a masterful storyteller, and central to all of her films are a set of complex, well-crafted characters that are developed with consistency and nuance, allowing them to become the anchors that keep this film grounded within reality and constantly enthralling, even at its most subtle. The protagonist is played by Nykiya Adams, who is making her acting debut with this film, and she is certainly very impressive. It’s a small, quiet performance that relies on her ability to play to the more internalized emotions, very rarely having moments of eruption, and instead relying on the subtlest of cues to make the character of Bailey seem more authentic and defiant to social conventions, which is the core of the story. She’s joined by two terrific actors who occupy supporting parts – Barry Keoghan is at his most dastardly as her charismatic but unstable father, while Franz Rogowski plays into his inherent eccentricities as the titular character, a potentially supernatural entity that swoops into Bailey’s life when she least expects it and proves to be the companion she never knew she needed, but is grateful to have encountered based on how much he helps her change the course of her life. The performances in Bird are extremely strong, with most of the elements that make the film so meaningful sprouting from the committed work being done by these actors. These may seem like relatively simple roles that anyone could play, but there are small details that make it so incredibly moving, especially in how the film captures a very specific kind of humanity that cannot simply be manufactured, but instead requires wholehearted effort from the actors, who are nonetheless exceptional in every aspect of the film. It’s likely going to be seen as a high point for all three – Adams as her breakthrough role, and as yet another example of Keoghan and Rogowski’s ferocious versatility and ability to infuse even the most peculiar of characters with an abundance of heart and soul.

Bird certainly tackles many very complex themes, and considering it looks at subjects such as adolescence (particularly in how the protagonist is beginning her journey towards maturity, both emotionally and physically) and poverty, Arnold had quite an assignment in ensuring that it was effective without becoming heavy-handed, which would have negated its many promising qualities. For the most part, the film is quite a conventional coming-of-age drama, drawing heavily from the generations of social realist filmmakers that inspired the director. The gritty visual aesthetic matches the raw, brutal tone perfectly, and creates a simple but effective examination of the protagonist and her journey towards self-realization, which proves to be filled with unexpected obstacles. However, Arnold is aware of how common these stories are, and chooses to make some intriguing narrative and visual decisions throughout, which situate the film outside the confines of what we’d initially expect from these themes. Throughout the film, there seem to be allusions to slightly more fantastical elements – they’re quite subtle and not all that noticeable on their own, but there is an atmosphere of something covertly more offbeat, which accumulates in the climactic moments of the film, which can be interpreted in several different ways but are designed to give a visual representation to the feeling of isolation and confusion felt by the character of Bailey as she navigates these challenging moments during her formative years. The reason for evoking these off-kilter ideas is not entirely clear, but it can likely be attributed to Arnold’s desire to infuse Bird with a sense of magical realism, taking a more subtle but no less impressive approach to these ideas, which quietly creates a poignant, captivating experiment that may not be entirely consistent in its tone, but adds layers of complexity to an already riveting film, making it more compelling through a few more surreal elements designed to reignite the central themes and what they represent.

With Bird, Arnold completes what we can view as an unofficial trilogy of coming-of-age dramas that combine subtle, gritty storytelling with a sense of magical realism, exploring the lives of young women growing up in hostile environments and seeking a way forward, knowing that the path to a better life is not easy and filled with obstacles, but it is better to take the risk and fail than just become part of the same system designed to keep them in the shadows while others who are more fortunate can thrive. It’s a simple film and one that carries itself with elegance and curiosity that exists somewhere between playful and daunting, a blend that Arnold has mastered extremely effectively and with such incredible vigour and charm, helped along by her exceptional actors, all of whom deliver stunning, engaging performances. It’s not an overly complex film, but it has difficult discussions throughout, and its portrayal of poverty and the plight of the working class and unemployed is genuinely harrowing – but there is nonetheless still an abundance of hope lingering beneath the surface of this film, which proves to be a poignant, impactful character study that combines a traditional coming-of-age narrative with something more profound, finding the space to examine these themes with enough sentimentality and humanity, we can’t help but be fully invested in the journey of these characters, who will be recognizable to all of us. Authentic in some parts and beautifully poetic in others, Bird is a film that understands that a good story needs to have a strong foundation and solid intentions to be able to succeed, and from the very beginning to the final haunting moments, this is a film that soars to immense heights.